


Not For a Case

by Sherlock1110



Series: Random one shots [8]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Fluff, Johnlock - Freeform, M/M, cuteness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-17
Updated: 2016-05-17
Packaged: 2018-06-09 03:22:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 682
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6887881
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sherlock1110/pseuds/Sherlock1110
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock is 75% sure his experiment John has joined him with isn't going to explode… that's 25% room for error though</p>
            </blockquote>





	Not For a Case

**Author's Note:**

> Beta read by sherlockian4evr
> 
> This makes no sense scientifically but I don't care!!

Not For a Case

 

John and Sherlock were on the bottom floor of St. Barts, to conduct one of the detective's experiments. Obviously.

The doctor was on his back on a skate board Sherlock had stolen from somewhere. He was scooting around on the floor under one of the low tables.

“Why do I have to be the one down here?” He grumbled.

“Would you rather be the one to calibrate the stat-”

“Alright, smart arse.”

Sherlock flicked a few more switches and then changed his mind on the order of the wires that were lined up on top of the machine John was under. He swapped two over and the machine gave a hiss, the bubbling of the liquid on one of the breakers sat on tripods didn't fill John with confidence.

“You need to cut the green wire John, and then possibly the black one.”

“What do you mean possibly? And why are we doing this again?”

“Because you wouldn't let me do it alone,” Sherlock whined, stamping his foot in his iconic sulk.

“If you die in some explosion that wipes out half of London I want to be here to die too.”

“That makes no sense.”

John used his legs to propel him out from beneath the machine. “It makes every sense.” Then he rolled back under. “Now are you sure it's the black one?”

The detective paced for a while, leaving John laid back on an uncomfortable stolen skate board. Eventually, however, he sighed. “I’m about 75% sure this won’t explode on us.”

“That's a lot of room for doubt,” the doctor countered.

Sherlock knelt beside John and reached down to take his free hand. All the blond could do was peer at him from his position.

“If it works, it will be like a ball of fire, a controlled ball of fire.”

“Alright.”

John cut the wire and immediately scooted out from under the machine. The younger man pulled him to his feet.

The machine began cracking and smoking from some of the lower compartments.

“Hush, John. It's fine,” he cut off the obviously brewing argument. At least he thought he did.

“But-”

“It's meant to do that.”

Sherlock waited a moment, squeezing John's hand reassuringly.

Suddenly he jerked his arm up, forgetting the doctor's hand and pointed. There it was, slowly getting bigger and bigger. A fireball, hovering almost above the middle of the three beakers.

“Sherlock, is it meant to be getting that big?”

“No…”

Sherlock grabbed John's hand again, some newly found sixth sense jumping in. He turned and threw them both to the floor as the fireball exploded behind them with a not so loud _Boom!_

In seconds, the smoke alarm was going off and Sherlock was coughing and spluttering at the smoke gathered in the room. He sat up nudging John. He knew he was alright. He'd made sure the older man was below him.

“You twat!” John grumbled without any real bite. “Next time I'll land on top.”

Sherlock chuckled nervously. He groaned as he got to his feet and walked over to the equipment.

“Well that'll be £700000 worth of kit they'll never be bothered to replace,” John said dryly.

The detective stared at him through the smoke. “Nah, my brother will replace it, no problem. He'll nag me for months, though, so that might be an issue. He'll make me do all the dull and ordinary cases with too much legwork for him to be bothered, that may also be an issue. What will definitely be an issue is when he tells Mummy and Mrs. Hudson.”

“What exactly have we proven here for your case?”

“Oh that? It had nothing to do with a case. I just wanted to test it out. It was fun though.”

John should have been angry. He should have been mad and he should storm off. He wasn't though. And he didn't. Instead, he burst out laughing. “You are such a git,” he smacked his arm, above his elbow.

Sherlock took his hand in his own again. “I know. But I'm your git.”


End file.
